


Who Says You Can't Go Home

by Peril_in_Peace



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Team as Family, reference to canon character death, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peril_in_Peace/pseuds/Peril_in_Peace
Summary: A new house becomes a home.GOTG Family Holiday prompts "Heart of the Home" with a smattering of "Perfect Gift."





	Who Says You Can't Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title by Bon Jovi.

Gamora hadn’t considered how much the _Milano_ had become home until it was sitting in pieces in the _Quadrant’s_ main hangar; until she picked through their few belongings still scattered on the crew deck.

She threw what she could find onto her empty bunk and pulled up the corners of the blanket, the small bundle light in her hands. She kicked a rotting Yaro root out of the gaping hole at the aft of the ship, watching it roll out onto the grated platform of the hangar and wished, through a bittersweet pang, that Nebula had stayed.

The _Third Quadrant_ was a grungy warren of now-empty rooms and corridors that, while a little dark and off-putting, should be mostly safe. There was plenty of space for all of them. For a change.

But Gamora found herself drawn back to the main part of the ship. Still dim and grimy, but warm in a way that lulled her into slowing her steps and her breath and almost smiling.

___

Peter closed the hatch to the captain’s quarters behind him and tapped the panel to code and lock it. It was still Yondu’s, and there wasn’t any changing that. Not yet. Right now, it was hard to think it ever _would_ change.

And a part of him resisted letting his better thinking kick in, letting his brain tell him what he knew to be true. That someday he wouldn’t feel…

Like this.

But that part of him was a traitor and his brain was a liar, and he _owed_ it to Yondu to--

He bit hard on the inside of his cheek, then reached into his pocket, just to make sure the Zune was still there.

Peter’s brain tried to tell him exactly what Yondu would think about his misery. And _wallowing._ And feeling _goddamn sorry_.

He’d had nearly thirty years of miserable moments, growing up on this very ship, even as he called it home--

“I am Groot?”

The voice was small, a little quiet. A little sad. Peter smiled and picked the tiny _Flora_ up. Groot pointed at the locked hatch behind them, as Peter perched him on his shoulder and stepped away.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Peter said, hoping his answer was close enough to whatever Groot had asked.

He felt little, scratchy fingers curl around the bottom of his ear.

___

Drax had no material possessions left to find in the wreck, to place into one of the empty bunkrooms and claim as his own.

It was not the first time. And a quiet, stabbing ache behind his heart prodded at him that it may not be the last.

But Drax knew, there were worse things to lose.

And the something warm that filled in the cold, empty _absences_ in him wasn’t in the _Milano_ anymore, anyway.

It was just a ship, after all.

He regarded the twisted metal hulk that was their home for the last few months, digging deep for any trace of sentiment for the object, but--

Drax still had what mattered.

He turned away from the ship without going inside. A dull, almost hollow sound bounced from the toe of his boot and over the grated floor of the hangar.

Drax knelt and picked up the rotting Yaro root.

___

Mantis was cold. Physically, bitingly cold in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Even when she had travelled with… With him, he provided her with clothing that would insulate her skin. When they traveled through the emptiness of space, his vessel was windowless and _felt_ … _was_ … as much a part of him as his planet. As if she never left.

She touched her face with her fingertips, the cold a bitter shock against the warmth of her cheek, and Mantis stared out at the tiny specks of light dotting the blackness through the viewport.

“You’re just not used to it, yet.”

She only had to turn slightly, to see Gamora move tentatively into the dim room. It was a small space, only a few steps from the hatch to her chair. Gamora held out dark gray blanket; frayed at the edges and a little thin in spots. Old, but big… a draping bundle spilling over her arm.

Mantis carefully avoided Gamora’s fingers as she took it, pulling it over her shoulders and holding it closed around her knees.

“It’ll take some time…” Gamora sat on the edge of another chair, wobbly and creaky with a broken leg. “It’ll be hard to sleep at first, without a sunrise waking you up...” Gamora smiled softly at something half-remembered. “But you’ll get the hang of it. And… I’ll ask Peter to turn the heat up. That’ll help.”

“Thank you,” Mantis said softly. She felt warmer already.

___

A year ago, six months ago. Two weeks ago… Rocket would have found an isolated space. Capitalized on the size of the ship, and found a den of his own, separate and quiet and lonely. Even on the _Milano_ , he’d found the little hidden corners to keep to himself.

Easy to escape to.

Tonight, yesterday… now. The thought of such escape made his stomach churn and being alone for an hour dredged up a paralyzing terror, a sense of _desolation_ stretching out in front of him _forever..._ and he very calmly panicked.

And found one of the others, so that he could breathe again.

“Gross, dude…” Quill’s voice.

Rocket poked his nose into the open hatch and raised an eyebrow as he made his way toward Quill. Groot hopped from the humie’s shoulder and onto his head.

Rocket winced and lightly flicked at the kid and he plopped onto his rear, between his ears.

Drax was unfazed and continued holding the putrid Yaro root out to Mantis. Gamora looked greener than usual and sat back in her chair, further away from the thing.

Mantis reached out a hand from under her blanket, and stuck her finger right into the squishy middle of the fruit. Rocket stuck his tongue out in a show of gagging. Quill rolled his eyes at him as Groot copied the sound.

Mantis grinned, wiggling her finger around. She pulled a snotty clump of seeds out between her finger and thumb. “Drax...” she said, with quiet amazement. “These will grow beautifully. Thank you.”

___

Kraglin waited as long as he could to set the auto-pilot. Waited until he was so tired, he could barely see straight, and then he finally hit the controls and pulled himself out of his seat. He wandered slowly out of the cockpit and out into the too-quiet of the too-small _Quadrant_.

Around every corner, he expected the cold heaviness of a ghost to weigh him down, but none had shown up to keep him company.

There was just the weight of the Yaka in his boot.

He hit a crossroads in the corridor and remembered--there wasn’t a fourth quadrant anymore, no little closet of a quarters of his own anymore. Even his M-ship was gone, blown apart in the main hangar of the _Eclector_.

And it was exactly what he’d deserved.

So Kraglin turned left. Maybe there was some booze in the officer’s mess. And maybe that would warm him up and help him sleep. Just for a couple of hours.

He almost turned back when he saw the bug girl through the open hatch, sitting up in a chair and looking out through a window at the stars. But really… where else was he gonna go?

She turned as he entered, putting her finger to her lips, and Kraglin turned to see Quill and Gamora passed out on the ratty old couch, feet propped up on a broken chair. The rat curled up on the floor, with the twig under their legs. Muscle-head was sitting straight up in a chair, arms crossed and snoring.

Kraglin sighed and ran his hand down his face, trying to remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep.

He shuffled over to the couch, briefly considered just sitting on Pete’s hand on the empty cushion, before grabbing his wrist and throwing Quill’s hand onto his leg.

Quill snorted and hit Kraglin’s arm as he sat down, then dropped his head onto Kraglin’s shoulder before he had a chance to hit him back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and Happy New Year!


End file.
